When the hurricane finally released its grip on Jamaica and the winds fell into an uneasy hush, I stood looking at the aftermath with a kind of sobering clarity. As someone who has spent years walking this island, studying its terrain, guiding buyers, and watching the market shift in subtle ways, I realised that the storm didn’t just tear through houses and hillsides—it tore through assumptions. It exposed a truth we’ve been whispering for years but rarely confronting outright: the real danger in Jamaican real estate has never been the interest rate. It’s been the waiting.
For months before the storm, countless buyers told me they were sitting tight, watching the banks, hoping for that magical dip to 5.99%. They believed that if they could just wait a little longer, the right rate would make everything easier. I understood the instinct—every Jamaican wants value for money—but I also knew the reality: Jamaica is not America, and our housing market does not move like theirs. We don’t get wild rate swings. We don’t see dramatic drops. Our shifts come in quarter-points and half-points, small nudges that help but never transform affordability in the way people imagine.
But as I walked through flood-soaked communities and saw roofs scattered across streets like loose cards, the truth became blindingly simple. The buyers who waited for a lower rate were waiting on the wrong thing. The hurricane laid bare the real determinants of long-term value: elevation, drainage, structural integrity, terrain stability, access roads, coastal vulnerability, and the reputation of the developer who built the home. The numbers on a mortgage calculator never warned anyone about the gully that reclaimed its path, or the reclaimed land that quietly returned to swamp, or the hillside that shifted with terrifying force.
Everywhere I looked, there were reminders. Houses sitting in deep water because they were built where water naturally gathers. Roofs gone with the first hard gust because shortcuts were taken. Foundations cracked on slopes that should never have been approved. Social media put a humorous spin on it—“Inna Jamaica, roof nuh loyal”—but beneath the laughter was pain. The storm conducted its own audit, and not every development passed.
And all the while, the market was moving. Prices in Kingston, St. Andrew, St. Ann, and St. Catherine continued to climb. Materials grew more expensive. Land became scarcer. Construction delays pushed costs further. Even before the hurricane, hesitation was costly. Now, with reconstruction on the horizon and thousands of families searching for safe options, competition will only intensify. Diaspora buyers will return. Investors will seek resilient inland properties. Insurance costs will rise. And those who waited, hoping to save a small amount each month, may now find that the home they wanted has slipped into someone else’s hands entirely.
That is why I often say, and mean it deeply: “In Jamaican real estate, the biggest danger is not making a wrong move—it’s making no move at all.” Because while buyers wait, the market does not. Jamaica does not. Nature certainly does not.
This hurricane has reshaped the national conversation. People are no longer asking only about the monthly payment; they are asking about the strength of the roof, the slope of the land, the path of runoff water, the quality of the builder, the history of the neighbourhood. These are the questions that matter. These are the questions that protect your investment, your peace of mind, and your future.
Standing here now, reflecting on everything we’ve been through, one lesson stands taller than the broken trees and washed-out roads: “Don’t buy a rate. Buy a future.” Rates rise and fall. But the land remembers everything. A well-built home on safe ground will hold its value long after the numbers in a loan agreement fade from memory.
Jamaica is rebuilding, and so is our understanding of what truly matters when choosing a home. If this storm taught us anything, it’s that waiting for perfect conditions is not our way. We move forward. We adapt. We rebuild. Because here, in this country shaped by resilience, hesitation is often the most expensive choice of all.
And as we always say—when yuh wait too long… somebody else tek di chance.
Disclaimer
The views and observations expressed in this article reflect the professional perspective and personal experience of Dean Jones as a real estate practitioner in Jamaica. This piece is intended for general informational and educational purposes only and should not be interpreted as financial, legal, engineering, or real estate advice. Property conditions, market behaviour, and environmental risks vary widely across locations and developments, and readers are strongly encouraged to seek independent guidance from qualified professionals—including licensed valuators, engineers, surveyors, mortgage advisors, insurers, and attorneys—before making any property-related decisions.
While every effort has been made to ensure accuracy at the time of writing, post-hurricane conditions and market factors may evolve rapidly. Neither Dean Jones nor Jamaica Homes assumes responsibility or liability for actions taken based on the contents of this article. All real estate decisions should be made with proper due diligence and personalised professional support.